


a thrill of hope

by jessicawhitly



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: F/M, Non Daemon AU, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: Asriel receives an unexpected Christmas Eve guest.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	a thrill of hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palmviolet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmviolet/gifts).



> I've loved these two for well over a decade, but I'm dipping my toe into the fic game! Based slightly more on the television show (though no daemons because I’m still working up to writing them!), though I guess it doesn't matter much, as it's set before Lyra's even born. For the prompt "You can't be alone on Christmas Eve" from @palmviolet! Title is from O Holy Night.

He isn’t expecting the knock on his door.

It’s Christmas Eve, and Asriel had resigned himself to spending it alone. Edward was home, which meant Marisa was at her home for the holiday. So Asriel was settled in with a bottle of whiskey, a book, and snow steadily falling out the large bay window.

Another knock sounds, so Asriel hauls himself to his feet and strides to the front door, dressing gown swishing around his knees. He yanks the door open, irritation creasing his face, before he stops short at the person standing at his doorstep.

“Marisa?” his eyebrows crinkle in confusion, and the dark-haired woman offers a small smile.

“Let me in, it’s freezing out here,” she murmurs, brushing snow off her coat as she brushes past Asriel into the warmth of the house. Asriel shuts the door before moving to help Marisa shrug out of her coat, revealing a silky, blood red dress cut in a low v and leaving inches of creamy skin on display. She turns, the dress pulled tight over the just visible bump in her middle, and Asriel feels his throat go dry.

“I thought Edward was home,” he comments as he watches her pick a grape off the plate he’d left out, popping it into her mouth. Marisa looks at him over her shoulder, dark hair spilling down her back like an ebony waterfall.

“He was called away,” she replies simply, swiping her thumb over her lower lip, eyes lingering on Asriel’s. “And that house is too big all by myself.”

Asriel regards her silently before he moves to her side, lingering a moment before he settles one hand on her hip, the other touching her jaw with gentle fingers. Marisa leans into the touch, long lashes fluttering against pale cheeks as he strokes along her cheekbone, angling her face up until he can touch his lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss.

“You can’t be alone on Christmas Eve, Asriel,” she murmurs, and there’s something uncharacteristically soft about her voice; Asriel risks dipping his hand between their bodies, cupping the soft swell of her abdomen in his palm. Her fingertips flirt with his knuckles, allowing the touch, and warmth floods Asriel’s chest.

“Did you eat?” he asks after a moment, and Marisa shakes her head, tying her hair back loosely as she follows him into the kitchen. “I dismissed the staff, but they left food.”

“Are you offering to cook for me, As?” Marisa’s nose wrinkles as she teases him, settling into a stool as Asriel pours her a watered down glass of wine and lights the stove, setting a pan on the burner.

“I did feed myself before I amassed a fortune, you know,” he reminds her, arching an eyebrow at her over his shoulder before he lays slabs of bacon in the heating pan.

He feels Marisa watching him as he toasts bread and prepares eggs to go with the bacon, drinking from his tumbler of whiskey all the while. When everything is finished, he turns and presents the plate to her with a flourish, and Marisa’s lips curl into a smirk, face creasing in delight.

“Your meal, m’lady,” he says dramatically, and Marisa snorts, rolling her eyes as she accepts it.

“You’re an idiot,” she informs him, though for once there’s no malice or edge to her voice- it’s softened by unguarded affection and warmth, and Asriel isn’t sure if it’s the holiday or the stone walls of his home or the knowledge that Edward Coulter is far away, but he drinks it in, watching the way Marisa eyes shine and her hand never strays far from the curve that signifies the child they’d made together, growing inside her.

Asriel eats standing up, watching her devour the food before stealing a strip of bacon off his plate, licking the grease from her fingers in a way he’d call undignified on any other day. He collects their plates, going to fill the sink when Marisa presses against his back, kissing his neck and trailing her fingers up his arms.

“Later,” she murmurs, her lips pressing to the hinge of his jaw. He turns his head, her lips touching the hull of his ear. “Take me to bed, Asriel.”

“As my lady commands,” he replies softly, turning and gripping her waist in his palms, her dress silky under his fingertips as he leaned in to kiss her hard, nipping at her lips. Marisa’s hands slide up until they can tangle in his hair, arms wrapping around his neck as she hummed under his attention, eyes sinking shut.

It’s only later, when they’re tangled under the furs on his bed and half-asleep in the moonlight pouring in through the cracked window that he hears her murmur softly against his skin, breath a warm whisper over his cool skin.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” comes so quietly it’s nearly silent in the large bed chamber, the rustle of her legs against the sheets as she curls herself more firmly against his side, head tucked under his chin.

He takes it for the gift it is, and pretends he hasn’t heard her.


End file.
